


Function Follows Form

by Faithchan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithchan/pseuds/Faithchan
Summary: Certain truths are so big and obvious that they create a gravity all their own. And when one gets used to orbiting those truths from a certain distance but never looking directly at them, suddenly having them spoken aloud is like the sun suddenly being the same distance from the Earth as the moon is. Which is to say, things can get very uncomfortable and you can't simply go back to peacefully orbiting again.





	Function Follows Form

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd ever write another fic again... and then Good Omens happened and I am so full of love and inspiration that this demanded I write it. So here's my first fic in 8 years. I'm a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> A MILLION thanks to Anto, Bella, and Ruth, my amazing Horsepeople, for betaing and tolerating my constant obsessing.

It started with an embrace. 

It was almost a week after the world didn't end, not that most people were aware of how close they had come to Armageddon. Two young men, walking hand in hand past the park bench where Aziraphale and Crowley were sat enjoying a pleasant afternoon, paused in the shade of a large tree. The taller one ducked his head and buried his face in the crook of his companion's neck. The shorter man wrapped his arms around the thin frame of the man in front of him, pulling him close. 

They may have been engaging in a whispered conversation, or each lost in their own thoughts, or simply existing in the peace of the moment. The angel and demon seated nearby took no specific notice of those details. In fact, they usually took very little specific notice of most of the humans around them at any given time unless there was pressing cause to. 

All of them, both mortal and supernatural, took notice though, when a snarled epithet and a small rock zipped through the air, the former striking all ears and the latter striking the taller man, who yelped in pain and surprise. 

"What was that!?" Aziraphale asked, his head whipping up, eyes on the injured man, confusion and concern heavy in his voice as he stood to go check on the poor fellow. 

"Looked like a piece of limestone. Granite, maybe," Crowley drawled; but he was already scanning the park to see if he could pinpoint where the projectile had originated.

"Crowley," Aziraphale's tone was simultaneously demanding and beseeching. The unspoken 'if you had something to do with this, I'll be quite cross with you! And if you had nothing to do with this, go see about who  _ did _ and do something about them!' came across remarkably clear. Aziraphale made it fairly easy since he was usually very thorough in verbalizing all his thoughts (and then some), but currently his attention was already back on the injured young man and his distressed companion.

"Scott!" 

"Leave it alone John," the taller man - Scott - said. He was clutching his ribs, eyes shut tight and trying to control his breathing. John ignored him and continued to try and check Scott's side to see how bad the injury was. "Really, it's fine. Stings like hell, but mostly just scared the shit out of me."

Aziraphale slowed his approach, as he sensed that Scott was correct and there was no serious injury, not even a scratch to miracle away. Still, the angel could sense pain radiating off of Scott… and John. 

"I'm so sorry to intrude," he said, and both men turned a suspicious gaze on him that rapidly softened as they recognized he wasn't a threat. "I just wanted to check and make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine, thanks," Scott said. "We've dealt with much worse. I just hate when it catches me off guard."

"Because God forbid we let our guard down for 30 fuckin seconds," John grumbled, rubbing his hands up and down Scott's arms. 

"No sign of them," Crowley said, striding up with a glower on his face. "Coward was probably off and running before the rock even hit you. I have a feeling… erm, karma... will find them soon enough though. Stuff like that tends to leave a stink on a person." Crowley was clearly angry about the situation, which might seem odd for a demon if you don't know Crowley. He didn't have a problem with hate in and of itself, of course. But he really didn't like stupidity, and certain kinds of hate were just really inherently stupid. So he hated stupid people who spent all their hate on stupid things to hate. At least that's how he always thought about it. And if it made little ripples of pride radiate off Aziraphale in Crowley's general direction whenever he did something against hateful behavior, well that surely had nothing to do with anything. 

Scott and John smiled sadly at each other. "Maybe someday karma will finally catch up to them all, so we can publicly hug our boyfriends in peace," Scott said.

"Thanks for checking up on us, and trying to catch the bastards," John said. "We gotta watch each other's backs, right?" 

"We-?" Aziraphale was confused, but he didn't have a chance to finish his thought before Scott cut him off.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I just want to go home now. Thanks again. I hope you have a better afternoon."

"Quite alright," Aziraphale said, "And you as well." With a final smile, the young men turned to walk out of the park, hand in hand and heads held high. Whether the latter was more to show they were not ashamed or to keep aware for further threats was immaterial, as both were essential to them. "I think I want to go home now as well," Aziraphale murmured under his breath. Crowley heard him perfectly.

 

**********************************

 

"Those young men weren't bothering anyone, they weren't talking to anybody, they weren't even looking at anyone, why would somebody go out of their way to be so cruel," Aziraphale sputtered, pacing back and forth. Back at his bookshop, locked away in the back room, he was trying to process things; not just the incident in the park, but also why it still had him so upset. He'd seen humans do so much worse and it rarely gave him more than a passing sense of sadness and disappointment. Ever since he and Crowley had each had their… conversations… with Heaven and Hell, something had been different and he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"I don't know which side gets more credit... er, blame... I mean, is more responsible for homophobia," Crowley said, leaning against the wall, watching Aziraphale pace. "Pretty sure both have contributed quite a lot. But it's also just humans being human." 

"It doesn't make sense."

"Of course it does, angel, you know that," Crowley sighed, pocketing his sunglasses. "Humans have problems with people who are different than they are. They turn everything into 'us vs them' even though it almost always ends badly." Aziraphale sighed at how familiar it sounded, settling down to sit on the well-worn sofa.

"Oh, I know. And humans aren't the only ones who do that," he said sadly. "Our sides... not ours anymore I know, but you know what I mean; that's all they wanted: it wasn't even about who's right and who's wrong or good and bad; it was always just to see who will win and who will lose. Death and destruction because we were made to have one fundamental difference between each other and then battle for the sake of seeing which one wins. If that's how immortals with endless potential for knowledge, wisdom, and grace behave, what chance do humans have? Even the best of them will always look at how different they are from one another." Aziraphale's usual ability to look on the bright side and find the positive spin on the situation was failing him. Maybe he was tired, but it was all just a bit too much for him, and for a moment he felt himself drifting away into a feeling of hopelessness.

 

Function follows form. Creatures with four legs walk a certain way that is very different from those with two legs and very  _ very _ different from those with no legs, which technically don't walk at all. Crowley had embodied different forms across his existence, but he'd been human-shaped for most of it and felt most at home that way. And as a being with two legs, Crowley found himself walking without conscious intent across the room, and settled himself next to Aziraphale. Some deep, dusty instinct had taken over; something even six thousand years tied to Hell couldn't extinguish, and he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders in the way that beings with arms will do in order to bring comfort to each other. Aziraphale leaned heavily in to Crowley's chest, in the way beings will do when they need that point of contact.

"Yeah, but then there are the humans who look at how their differences can be... good," Crowley said quietly, tightening his embrace. "Just because people are different doesn't mean it has to be a bad thing, and some of them really get that. Keeps existence interesting, keeps them learning new things about each other... and about themselves." 

The sadness Aziraphale felt was still present, but he was anchored now, no longer drifting away on a sea of despondency. It was warm here. He felt safe. How funny was that, that it was Crowley who made him feel safe. He supposed he should be bothered by it; but right now, in this moment, he just couldn't be arsed to do so. He shifted, turning slightly, and slipped his arms around Crowley's waist, resting his head by his collar bone. Neither commented on the deep, slow pulse growing stronger within each of them as they held one another.

"You're not just talking about humans." 

"Well I'm not talking about Heaven or Hell," Crowley huffed, warm breath ghosting across the back of Aziraphale's neck. "I don't think they're capable of learning and growing, they just  _ are _ . No imagination, no thinking from another perspective. Their way is the only way and always will be." Silence fell over them, each breathing in air that they don't strictly need but they enjoy anyway.

"Which is why you and I don't properly belong to those places anymore," Aziraphale finally said. "We see the  _ value _ here when they can't, we were protecting the world and all the wonderful different kinds of people and things in it."

"Among other things, I guess," Crowley conceded with the tiniest lazy shrug. They sat in silence for another moment before Aziraphale leaned back slightly, not ready to release his hold on Crowley but wanting to look him in the eye. 

"What other things?"

"Well, you know," Crowley sputtered, casting his gaze off to the side and moving one arm away from Aziraphale in order to run his fingers through his dark, unruly hair, " _ Things _ . Lots of things.  _ Tons _ of things. You said things, there's all sorts of things." Crowley's other arm remained firmly across Aziraphale's back, hand gripping his shoulder.

"Right. Of course." Aziraphale gave a tiny smile and loosened his arms from around Crowley's waist and moved to sit back further. He felt Crowley's hand clench slightly tighter on his shoulder before finally relinquishing its grip and falling away from him. 

"I'm… I'm going out for a drink," Crowley said, standing abruptly and pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket.

"Oh, ok, let me grab my coat-"

"No, angel, not tonight. Not really your scene, the place I'm going."

"Oh. Well. Ok then. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Or sometime soon."

"Yeah. Maybe," Crowley mumbled, starting towards the door.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" The words tumbled out of Aziraphale. Crowley cast a glance back over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

"I know how you feel about my driving, angel. I don't want to go too fast for you."

 

***********************************

 

Crowley felt no compunctions about lying to Aziraphale. Or at least half-lying. Maybe stretching the truth a bit. He really was going for a drink at a pub where Aziraphale would decidedly not enjoy the ambiance. But his current motivation had far less to do with Aziraphale's potential discomfort and much more to do with the...  _ things _ churning around inside himself. He needed to figure this out before he miscalculated and took a catastrophic step. Not that it wasn't already fairly catastrophic for him… so stupid to ever let himself get in to this situation in the first place. He put the Bentley into gear and sped off.

He'd told Aziraphale more than once that the two of them were on their own side, but the gravity of just how correct he might have been without even understanding it was starting to weigh on him. Something was different now. He wondered if it had to do with the fact that pissing off head office was no longer really the same kind of concern (as head office could probably not get too much more pissed off), or if it had to do with the body swap trick they'd used, or if it was something else all together.

Aziraphale had always been the one setting the boundaries in their relationship while Crowley pushed to see if they'd stretch a bit. It was a comfortable, familiar balancing act between temptation and restraint.

But what had happened just now, that was…

It was just a hug (and the question of "since when do I go around  _ hugging _ anyone?" was another conundrum… of course, Aziraphale wasn't "anyone..."). But it wasn't "just." It was something well outside their normal patterns, and Aziraphale hadn't objected, not even a little. Quite the opposite, and Crowley wasn't quite sure what to  _ do _ with that. 

The Bentley screeched to a halt in a neighborhood where no other Bentley driver would ever consider parking their car, outside of a pub that half the residents of that neighborhood would never consider entering. Crowley slammed the door shut and stalked inside, collapsing into a chair at a dirty table in a dark corner. A nod and wave to the bartender ensured that alcohol would be in front of him in short order.

He was so out of his depth; but as far as he knew this was a unique situation in all of creation, a demon in love with an angel, so he was going to have to figure it out as he went along. Step one in his thinking process plunked down on the table in front of him in the form of a bottle of whisky. 

 

Three hours later, he was still on step one (bottle two, though) and felt no closer to figuring out what to do next. The pub was still mostly empty, so when the door burst open and two loud drunks stumbled in laughing, Crowley glared at them from behind his sunglasses for ruining his concentration. They took no notice, and the blond one snorted loudly before a fresh wave of laughter overtook him. His dark haired companion was slurring a drink order to the bartender, who for his part was weighing if he was going to serve these guys at all and risk them getting alcohol poisoning in his place. That kind of thing caused a lot of annoying paperwork. 

"Didja… did ya see the look on the one poof's face? I swear 'e was gonna shit 'imself," the blond was saying, in between fits of laughter. Crowley sat up, suddenly more sober than he was a moment ago, and sniffed the air. He could smell pollen on their clothes under the stink of cigarettes, vomit, and stale beer. He could smell the exhaust from the cars they walked past crossing each street throughout the day. He could smell their hate and glee intermingled, rolling off of them in rank waves.

How was that for some karma? A slick grin slid across Crowley's features as he sobered himself up more. He might be at a loss for what to do with his own situation, but  _ this _ …  _ This _ he knew. This made sense to him. He needed this.

The men were starting to yell at the bartender as it was becoming clear that they weren't gonna get their drinks. Leaving money on his table, Crowley walked up to the bar and slung his arms around Blondie and his buddy.

"Oi! Come on, this old prick isn't gonna give any of us anything else to drink," he slurred. "I know a spot just down the road where we can get some  _ actual _ service," he added, steering the men out of the pub with a nod to the bartender, who nodded back, before paying no further mind to the trio who stepped out into the night.

 

Two hours later, Crowley let himself in to his flat, weary but feeling quite self-satisfied with the results of his evening excursion. Now he just wanted to sleep.

Crowley didn't need to sleep, but he enjoyed it... sort of. He enjoyed the absence of experience. Much of his existence was centered around pain and suffering - his own or that of others - so the reprieve was usually welcome. In recent centuries, he'd found himself sleeping less and less though. The past few decades, he'd often only nap once or twice a month. And in the past eleven years, he'd only dozed off a handful of times.

This was different. As Crowley flopped down on his bed, fully clothed except for the sunglasses he tossed onto the nightstand, he wasn't trying to escape the screams of the damned or the stench of his fellow demons or the worry of an eternity of Hell. He was trying to escape the suffering of someone who was completely, irrevocably, overwhelmingly in love and had no idea what to  _ do _ about it. A gnawing sensation in his gut told him the terrible answer: that this was a problem he couldn’t fundamentally address on his own. He was going to have to talk to Aziraphale. He couldn't help but think longingly back to the simplicity of trying to avert Armageddon.

 

*******************************

 

The next morning, when he called Aziraphale, the angel answered on the first ring. "Crowley?" His voice was painfully hopeful. 

"Yeah, it's me," Crowley replied. He realized he didn't know what to say next.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, no, yeah, everything is fine. I just. Was just. Was thinking. And… you know, this might be easier if you came over, d'you want to come over?" Crowley winced at himself. Real smooth. Aziraphale being Aziraphale only replied with a sincere and enthusiastic affirmative, and a promise to be there in twenty minutes.

Sixteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Crowley opened it to admit a beaming Aziraphale. Though the angel had seen the flat briefly before, his eyes were wide as he took in the clean minimal lines, the greenery, the statue of angelic good and evil wrestling (with evil winning, of course). 

"D'you want some water? Or tea? Or coffee? Or something?" Crowley asked ushering Aziraphale in towards the comfortable leather sofa that squeaked a little when sat upon.

"No, thank you. So, what is it that's earned me a rare invitation to your private sanctum?" Aziraphale asked with a smile.

"I was just… I… I ran into the men from the park. The rock-throwers, I mean, not the ones we spoke to."

"Oh. Do I want to know what you did with them?"

"Probably not." A hint of sadness crept in around Aziraphale's eyes, and it made Crowley's stomach twist. "Really, I mostly just scared them. Terrified might be a better word. But they're alive, intact, and I'm pretty sure they're not going to be hurting anybody again any time soon. Or ever again." He was quiet for a beat, pressure building in his chest behind words that wanted to get out. "I'm not cruel, you know. Ok, maybe some of my house plants might disagree, but on the whole, I'm really not. Maybe I bring a little chaos to the world. Or a lot, sometimes. But I'm not cruel." Aziraphale's eyes got even sadder for a moment, and Crowley cursed himself for a fool.

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, reaching out and wrapping his arms around the thin frame beside him. Crowley froze at the touch. "I know you're not. I've always known that. I've been the one telling  _ you _ that for ages."

"I still enjoyed playing 'karma' for the evening on those little bastards," Crowley grumbled under his breath, torn between feeling the warmth and comfort of the embrace and feeling undeserving of it. "I delighted in their suffering." Aziraphale sat back, releasing the embrace but leaving one hand on Crowley's forearm. His face was soft and open and loving and Crowley was mystified as to how this angel could look at him that way, even though he always did.

"I couldn't enjoy it, not like that," Aziraphale said softly, looking away for just a moment. "But. There are some people for whom a stern talking-to simply won't do. I don't think I could handle those kinds of situations as well as you can. I mean that in a good way, really. As much as I believe in approaching things with kindness first, there does come a point where lessons need to be learned the hard way if they're ever to be learned at all."

"I certainly had to learn mine the hard way," Crowley huffed. "Great big fall. Even then, I'm not so sure I learned all that well. Still questioning, still doing things I shouldn't be doing."

"You must have been bored to tears in Heaven," Aziraphale said, shifting and leaning back ever so slightly into the sofa. "I can't picture you there with the likes of Gabriel and Michael. At least, not  _ you  _ you. But then, you wouldn't be you if you weren't… well, you."

"I might have done better if I'd have met you earlier. If I hadn't fallen, you and I would have been on the same side," Crowley said, a thought, itchy in the back of his head, beginning to take shape. "You know, even though I really… I genuinely appreciate the world and humanity and I'm REALLY glad that it's not destroyed… I don't know if I would have fought as hard to save it if losing hadn't meant that… well, Heaven can't forgive demons, and Hell won't accept angels except to maybe torture them for eternity, so either way you and I would have seen the last of each other if they got their war. As shitty as eternity would be either way, I don't know if I would have dreaded it as much if I thought…" Crowley trailed off, wondering unknowable things about ineffable plans.

"If you hadn't fallen, you might have let the world be destroyed?" Aziraphale looked ever so slightly disappointed in him.

"It's not that, angel. Just… if I hadn't fallen, I wouldn't have felt I had so much to lose if it was." Aziraphale sat upright. 

"What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?"

"What in the world do you think it means?"

"I don't know! I know you enjoy the world, fast cars and loud music and humanity being  _ interesting _ . I know you dreaded eternity regardless of which side won. I just… what else could it be?"

"Oh my… You can be so  _ thick _ ."

"Well, then enlighten me!"

" _ YOU _ ! You, you daft… feather-brained  _ idiot _ . I really enjoy the world, but I love you."

 

Everything was a bit sideways. Aziraphale's world was askew. Because certain truths are so big and obvious that they create a gravity all their own. And when one gets used to orbiting those truths from a certain distance but never looking directly at them, suddenly having them spoken aloud is like the sun suddenly being the same distance from the Earth as the moon is. Which is to say, things can get very uncomfortable and you can't simply go back to peacefully orbiting again.

Aziraphale had known he was in love with Crowley for decades. Maybe even centuries. He knew it and made peace with it (mostly), and enjoyed their meetings and lunches together; because what else could it ever be but a quiet secret at his core? Neither Heaven nor Hell would tolerate an angel in love with a demon… ah, and now he knew why the incident in the park had rattled him so deeply. But either way, he'd never thought… He'd seen and felt the affection Crowley had for him, he knew that the demon cared as much as he could… but love? Could a demon love?

But why not. Demons were angels once too. And just like that, he understood.

 

"Alpha Centauri," Aziraphale whispered.

"That… is not any of the responses I was expecting."

"If I had agreed, you and I would have gone off together and left the earth to its fate; but you… you never would have left without me." Crowley was quiet. "You stayed for me. And you helped Adam understand how to stop Satan." Aziraphale chuckled quietly. "I guess it's a good thing both of us are stubborn."

"Saving the world through love, pig-headedness, and sheer force of will," Crowley snorted. Silence fell over them. "Saved the world, but things are different now. At least, I feel like something is different. I don't know what to do with this, angel."

 

Angels and demons, being ethereal and occult creatures, do not have bodily needs in the same way humans and other mortal life does. They do not get hungry, they do not get sleepy; they have no physical drives to push them into actions necessary to sustain themselves because they do not need to take actions to sustain themselves in a physical sense.

There is a world of difference, however, between a bodily need and an emotional need… and they do in fact have emotional needs. Perhaps, in Aziraphale and Crowley, it was due to their long-term exposure to humanity; or perhaps it was an innate aspect of their nature. Only God knows how angels and demons are wired. Whatever the case, the need for belonging, connection, acceptance, and love was calling out between them.

 

There is also a world of difference between a need and a want.

Aziraphale did not need food. Ever. But oh how he enjoyed it. Savored it. Delighted in the experience of it. Flavor and texture, sweet and savory, all of it marvelous.

He enjoyed his cologne, the warm rich scent that stayed with him all day (never overpowering, never enough to upset anyone's allergies, always lingering long after it should have faded to nothing).

He enjoyed going to the barber, the feel of hands in his hair.

He enjoyed the feel of old books. The weight and heft of them, the different feel of various kinds of papers under his fingers.

He enjoyed music and art, he appreciated beauty and creation in all its forms.

Aziraphale was a hedonist. 

 

Aziraphale felt full with want and need for contact, but he was in no rush. This wasn't a drive from within himself. It was so much simpler and so much more complicated, this pull between them, a need for intimacy, physical and ethereal. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Crowley's temple by his tattoo, warm and patient. He could smell hair product mingled with uncertainty. 

"I don't think I get to have this," Crowley mumbled, shutting his eyes and reaching up to gently card his fingers through Aziraphale's hair and the angel breathed out a sigh. "Are demons even allowed to be happy? Satisfied with a bad job done well, sure. Gleeful at the suffering of others, of course. But peacefully, contentedly happy? I thought it was impossible, by nature." Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's unoccupied hand and held it between both of his own.

"You told me once that a person's nature was less important than their upbringing, their environment. Look at us both. I don't know if the rules we thought we were bound by are quite as we believed."

"Still the rules that Above and Below play by. What if they find out and come after us? What if this pushes us out of the safety of being left alone?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I don't care what they think or say or try to do. What I  _ do _ care about is you. I never thought that we could choose, but apparently I was wrong. We chose to go against what we had every reason to believe was God's plan. We chose to trust ourselves and each other and the humanity of one young boy. I won't give up choice now that I've known it. I simply won't. And I… I choose you."

Crowley had stopped breathing at some point, but now inhaled deeply and stood up abruptly, turning to face Aziraphale still seated on the sofa.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Aziraphale held his gaze as he stood slowly and placed his hands on either side of Crowley's face.

"As if I haven't loved you for ages. Since long before it was just the two of us on our own side. As if the only thing that's stopped me all this time was the belief that there was something so wrong with what I wanted that I had no choice in the matter. Of course I'm sure." He paused for a breath. "Is… is it what you want too?" Crowley nodded mutely. "Good."

Aziraphale closed the distance between them and leaned in, gently pulling Crowley's face towards him. In the moment before their lips touched, he felt Crowley's arms encircle him, crossing across his back and pulling them flush together. 

The kiss was something slow and soft and dangerous and divine. It was about sharing air and occupying the same space and knowing that they were loved, feeling it in a touch. Aziraphale's hands moved from Crowley's face, through his hair, crossing to grip his jacket by his shoulders. A soft noise Crowley would later deny making did not escape Aziraphale's notice, and he held on tighter, knowing that he was sighing out happy noises of his own. They pressed together more tightly, but it wasn't enough. 

 

Aziraphale had read every book that had ever come through his shop. All of them. Over the decades, that had included a few (ok several… perhaps several dozen… did the number really matter anyway?) books that by any reasonable standard would qualify as "erotica." 

Being an angel with an imagination (likely the only one), it had happened perhaps once or twice (or three times… ok enough with the counting!) that Aziraphale had imagined himself in some of the scenarios. As an… intellectual curiosity. A thought experiment. If his partner in the scene always tended to have a certain appearance - tall and thin and dark - surely that didn't have to mean anything. And if on a few occasions he had to abruptly snap a book shut as he noticed a distinct and different kind of warmth spreading through him, well that was just prudent precaution, not panic.

It's not like he ever expected to be faced with anything close to any of it in reality.

But now, here he was, needing and wanting in equal measure, and an array of images all flashed through his memory. He knew that stories and images wouldn't match reality, but they gave him a starting place… and he was rapidly beginning to suspect reality would be even better.

 

Aziraphale relaxed his grip on Crowley and shifted away. Crowley reluctantly released his hold as well. Aziraphale stepped back with a smile and reached for the tie looped around Crowley's neck. "May I?" he asked and Crowley nodded, a slightly stunned look on his face as he caught on. Aziraphale gently lifted the tie over Crowley's head and laid it aside carefully. Next he slid Crowley's jacket off his shoulders and down his arms before also laying it on the sofa. "You know, the last time I took your clothes off, the angle was quite different," Aziraphale said, methodically undoing the buttons on Crowley's shirt. Lost in the moment, it took the demon a second to process the comment.

"Wait, what? When did you take my clothes off? What did I miss?" Aziraphale smirked and continued his task.

"When I was getting ready for my holy water bath. Didn't want to ruin any of your things, and there was no way would I let you risk wearing anything that had been soaked in holy water."

"Oh my… so  _ that's  _ where my pants went! Oh for fuck's sake… you took my pants off in front of the legions of Hell!?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Aziraphale said, now sliding Crowley's shirt off of him. "I kept the undergarments on in the bath and discarded them after I got out, your modesty perfectly protected by Michael's miraculous bath towel. Even I didn't see a thing." Aziraphale didn't mention that for a split second, caught up in giddiness at how well the plan was going, he had been very  _ tempted _ to peek. A confession for another time. Right now, there was warm skin in front of him and he couldn't resist planting a kiss in the crook of Crowley's neck. Any further concerns about his abandoned garments were lost in a long, hissing exhale.

Aziraphale stepped back, collecting himself and taking the opportunity to appreciate the beautiful person in front of him. He always loved that Crowley didn't hide his eyes behind sunglasses when it was just the two of them. Those eyes were looking at him questioningly right now. His hand stuttered its way up to his bow tie.

"May I?"

"If you want to," Crowley whispered. It had been a very long time since anyone had seen Aziraphale in anything less than his full suit. But now the bow tie neatly joined the collection of clothes on the sofa. And his long white jacket. One layer after the next, neatly folded. He could feel Crowley watching him the whole time with wide, unblinking eyes, and it was simultaneously thrilling and terribly nerve wracking as his soft middle was exposed.

"I know I may not be as much to look at-" he started, but was abruptly cut off when Crowley covered his mouth with another kiss, pressing their chests together and  _ oh my word  _ that was so much better already, warm and solid and real.

"You are beautiful, angel, don't you doubt it for a second," Crowley said, breaking the kiss and smoothing his hands up and down his angel's back. Aziraphale closed his eyes and he felt gentle kisses at his temple and neck, mirroring where he had kissed Crowley before. It was a heady feeling, and the air around them was almost humming. The ghostly echos of wings that never quite made it into the physical realm anymore felt almost tangible, adding to the warmth of the embrace. Aziraphale felt the heat of it all spreading through him, and for the first time he felt no shame or hesitation or impulse to stop it. 

"Do you… is there… can we…" Aziraphale was struggling to come up with a delicate way of phrasing his request, which was difficult enough as it was, but Crowley kept distracting him with kisses and caresses. Finally Aziraphale kissed him firmly and deeply on the mouth, with more heat than previously. He pressed himself forwards, and  _ oh _ that was starting to feel  _ very  _ nice, and Crowley gripped his waist tightly, holding him close, a moan breaking the quiet of the room. When he broke away, he finally managed to get a full sentence out. "I'd like for us to lie down, please. On a bed. Together." 

" _ Oh _ that sounds like the best idea ever," Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's arm and half pulling him back towards the bedroom. 

Just over the threshold, Aziraphale was struck by the fact that he was still wearing shoes, so he quickly sat in a chair by the door to untie them. Crowley groaned at the footwear detour, but took the opportunity to toe off his boots and quickly shuck his socks, tossing them, inside out, into the corner of the room.

"Quit grumbling. We can't very well take our trousers off with our shoes still on," Aziraphale said, tucking his socks neatly into his shoes and sliding them under the chair. "That is, if you're alright with taking our trousers off."

"Angel, I think I can safely say that I'm perfectly alright with anything and everything you want to do." Aziraphale stepped over to him and carefully unfastened Crowley's distinctive belt before stepping back, taking a breath and unbuttoning his own trousers. "Besides, the trousers are starting to get very uncomfortable," Crowley added, smirking and pushing said garment down off his hips and banishing it to the corner with a kick.

Aziraphale took a breath before carefully removing his own. He turned away from Crowley briefly to place the (almost) last of his clothing neatly on the chair. When he turned back, the look on Crowley's face was tender and open and full of hope, and suddenly it felt as though his chest would positively burst with the emotion it was trying to contain. He closed the gap between them and they were kissing again, the heat building slow and sure. A press of their hips together and Crowley let out another hiss. 

"Ok this is a new one for me," Crowley said, rolling his hips again. "Ok yep," he gasped, "I see the need for the bed right now." They moved together over to the bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing and touching. When they finally broke apart, Crowley was flat on his back and Aziraphale sat back on the demon's thighs.

The angel drank in the view, the most beautiful he'd ever seen - and he'd seen almost every piece of art the world had produced. What was even better is that he could touch as well as look. Hands on a pale chest, reverent caresses. Bowing his head to kiss neck and clavicle and pectoral and rib and the softness of stomach, noting how the scent of hair wax gave way to a deeper musk the farther down he kissed. The bristle of hair touching his cheek. Now there were fingers in his hair, pressing in to his scalp, tugging gently. Sitting back, Aziraphale locked eyes with Crowley and took hold of the waistband of the demon's pants.

"Oh  _ please _ ," Crowley gasped, shifting his hips up so Aziraphale could easily slide the pants off. The angel didn't hesitate, shifting himself to the side so he could get the pants all the way down Crowley's long legs, and taking the opportunity to remove his own as well. It certainly said something that he took them both and just tossed them on the floor without looking, mostly that he was now very distracted by Crowley's legs. He moved so that he knelt between Crowley's calves, and kissed the inside of his thigh, hairs tickling his lips as he slowly kissed his way upward until  _ oh _ that was a glorious sight. He licked a thick stripe up Crowley's length, and suddenly Crowley's fingers were back in his hair, scrambling against his scalp.

"Oh  _ angel _ ," Crowley moaned, hips twitching. Aziraphale grinned and repeated the action, ripping a wordless shout from Crowley, and  _ oh yes _ he could do this all day - kiss, touch, lick, explore... this was  _ marvelous _ . Far too soon for his liking, though, Crowley was tugging him upwards with urgency. "Aziraphale,  _ please _ , come here, I need to touch you," Crowley gasped, and how could he refuse? He stretched himself out, lying alongside Crowley, who turned so that the two were facing each other. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away, you're just so beautiful and I-" Crowley cut Aziraphale off with a kiss, running his hands over every inch of skin he could reach. Aziraphale gripped his shoulder, holding on as the heat and pressure began to build up inside him. When Crowley reached between them and started to stroke Aziraphale, the angle made it awkward and clumsy, and still it was so perfect that Aziraphale needed to bury his face in Crowley's neck. Because it was Crowley; beautiful, wicked, honest, chaotic, brilliant, mischievous, thoughtful, dangerous, safe, my  _ Crowley _ and of course it was perfect and oh God was that all out loud?

"Yeah, it might have been," Crowley replied, voice thick. Aziraphale needed to be closer and pulled himself flush with Crowley, which effectively trapped his arm, but the two of them pressed together didn't care very much because it all felt so fucking fantastic. Crowley managed to maneuver his arm so that he gripped both of them together in his hand and it all became a jumble of hips and moans and pressing and gripping and kissing and  _ oh my _ . Aziraphale felt the tension coil inside him, and as he looked into Crowley's amber eyes, the expression of awe and love there was too much. He had the strangest sensation of being at a tipping point, poised on the edge, knowing that the fall would be glorious because he was there with Crowley and Crowley would catch him and so he let go and  **_oh._ **

As the world became less fuzzy around the edges, he became aware of Crowley still moving against him, so he moved his hand to join Crowley's, lacing their fingers together as they moved. With a final hitch of breath, Crowley went tense against him, muscles bunched and gripping tight tight  _ tight _ until everything went loose and relaxed and Crowley heaved a happy sigh. 

"You know, you said some other stuff out loud too," Crowley said with a smirk. Aziraphale huffed at him, but was too relaxed and content to even pretend at any further irritation.

"I'm sure I meant every word of it," he said with a soft smile.

"I don't know if I'll ever understand how this, between us, came to be, my angel."

"I guess it's simply… ineffable." They both chuckled and sighed and held each other tightly. Long moments later, Aziraphale sighed as he took in the state of them and their surroundings. "We've certainly made quite a mess."

"Worth every bit of it. You are… brilliant. Where did you learn all that anyway?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale blushed and stuttered.

"I  _ do _ run a bookshop, you know. I've done a great deal of studying on a great many subjects."

"So," Crowley drawled with a wicked smile, "What else have you learned from those books?"

 

*END*


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